


Three-Fifty

by Adiaphory



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Lost Love, M/M, Multi, Romance, crackfic, new romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adiaphory/pseuds/Adiaphory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Italy and Germany are beginning a new life together when an old love from the past returns and makes everything much more complicated and confusing than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three-Fifty

The sheets were cool and their legs were warm, entangled together like they were meant to be. The situation was a growing occurrence neither party wanted to end, with days spent together and nights spent in a warm embrace. The night before Germany and Italy finally took it to the next step and made love for the first time. As Italy woke up, he felt the familiar soreness he knew when he was younger and more promiscuous. He looked up to see his lover awake, enjoying the quiet moment.

They hadn’t told anyone of the relationship and blooming love but they didn’t have to—Prussia teased them before about being together even when they didn’t realize their feelings, and of course France liked to talk about it very loudly in crowded areas to get a rise from them. There were many death threats to Germany from Romano, all ignored but noted.

“I’ll go make coffee,” Germany finally vocalized. He motioned for his partner to say put when he moved to leave as well. Italy simply smiled and laid back down, enjoying the softness of the pillows and the fading warmth from the bigger man’s side of the bed.

His eyes were closed and images of the night before danced in his mind; Germany’s muscles, glistening with sweat and flexing as he moved and grunted and took Italy. All those sounds and movements and emotions flooded him until he had to blink away the rush.

Germany soon returned to the room with two cups of coffee and sat back down, pulling on some pants to further his modesty, having been in his boxers before. They sat in a comfortable silence drinking until it was time to get up and get ready for the World Meeting.

The ride to the hotel was filled with the now fully-awake Italian’s happy rants and musings on the world and the sky and how that tie really brought out Germany’s eyes. Germany would blush and Italy would smile, thinking of how bashful he always was.

Italy knew deep in his heart that Germany was his long lost childhood love, Holy Rome. He felt almost crazy to think it with such determination but he knew this was his best friend from all those years back. He may have a new name and no memory of their past, but he was still the same little boy with that black hat and the gifted push broom.

Even his kisses were the same: unsure but wanting.

It was about three-fifty in the afternoon when they entered the building. They walked to the designated room Germany had to nudge Italy away, reminding him occasionally that this was not an appropriate setting for them to hold hands, no matter how much Italy wanted to.

“But Germany! My hand is so cold and yours is so big and warm!”

The taller man begrudgingly let the other hold onto his hand until they reached the meeting room, where he quickly detached the Italian and took his seat. Italy watched him in awe, still in the honeymoon phase of his love for Germany.

He soon joined his lover by his side and noticed a few seats remained empty, a curious sight since Italy was usually the last to arrive. Austria stumbled into the room, paler than usual, stopping before he reached the nearly-filled table. Heads turned to watch him and he quietly cleared his throat before he spoke.

“I’ve come across some… startling news…” The gaze of the entire room burned through him and his face flushed at all the attention.

“The meeting hasn’t begun yet, I’m sure it can wait,” Germany bit out, never being one for interruptions to their careful process.

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Austria retorted. “This is a rather _big_ matter.”

As if on cue Hungary stuck her head in the room, looking frazzled herself. She turned her head back, saying something they couldn't hear to someone they couldn't see on the other side of the wall by the door. Then she stepped through the door with her guest, someone very familiar to Italy’s eyes.

There was a confused silence as the man entered the meeting, followed by hushed questions back and forth between other nations. Spain stood slowly from his seat and watched the young man as he stood by Austria and Hungary.

“Dios mio,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for Romano, who was at his side, to hear. A glint of recognition shown in the Italian’s eyes and he stood as well, eyeing the man.

Italy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. In front of him stood a tall man, barely exceeding Austria’s height, with pale skin, delicate light blonde hair slicked back, and eyes like the rivers he used to play in as a child. The man was very similar in appearance to Germany, though a touch softer, even with a slightly rounder face rather than Germany’s cut jawline. He was adorned in black clothing, and something told Italy he had a matching hat he chose not to wear today.

There he was. But it couldn’t be—no, Germany was—no—

“This is why I said it couldn’t wait,” Austria said icily. “We… ran into him the other day and couldn't believe our eyes…”

America blinked and looked between Germany and the blonde man. “I didn't know you had a brother,” he said, gaze stopping on Germany.

“Yes you did, his name is Prussia, and this man is _not_ my brother!” Germany didn’t want to admit, even to himself, how odd it was to be faced with a person who looked so similar to him.

“Well,” Hungary said with hesitation, “He _would_ be your brother. You’ve never met him, and Prussia hadn’t seen him since he was very young, but…”

Austria picked up where she trailed off. “Germany, this is Holy Rome. Technically your older brother, and technically a dissolved nation like Prussia. We… thought he died all those years back…”

A million emotions flooded Italy in that moment. He had thought he found Holy Rome—he was so sure Germany was Holy Rome! They acted and looked so similar, but if they were brothers… it made sense, but… Italy was confused. His love for Germany was founded on the incorrect fact that this was the same man he fell in love with as a child. Now was he in love with both of them, or was his love for Germany purely an illusion for his looks?

He opened his eyes, exposing the brown irises that were so rare to see. That was Holy Rome standing but ten feet away from him, all grown up, serious as ever. Holy Rome tilted his head slightly, his own irises meeting with Italy’s in an electric moment of connection. There was a lost look in the lost nation’s eyes.

“H… Holy Rome,” Italy barely uttered, drowning in the sea of emotion.

Holy Rome’s eyes widened a fraction before he said, in his same old accent Italy remembered fondly, “Italy?! You—you’re—”

Austria groaned and shut his eyes before he stepped in, “Yes, yes, I was just as surprised as you were. He was a rather effeminate child.”

Holy Rome’s eyes softened and he said, “No… I mean, yes, but…” he turned his attention back to Italy. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”

Romano was visibly angering, muttering some quick lines in broken Spanish to Spain about that bastard breaking his brother’s heart again. Meanwhile Germany was feeling a crack forming in his heart, understanding what was to happen. He had heard the stories, he knew Italy was in love as a child, he was simply clinging to the childish hopes that he would be enough for the Italian.

Now he understood he was just a substitute, another blonde man to pretend was Holy Rome.

Italy took a tentative step forward, wanting to vomit and cry out in happiness at once. This was an epistemic situation if he had ever had one—he thought he knew who he loved, now he was just lost. Holy Rome took a step forward as well and the two met in the middle, watched by the room of fellow nations.

“Italy… I have loved you since the nine-hundreds… and I never stopped. Your push-broom was all I had of you for all these years. I’m so elated to have you back,” he whispered lowly, giving off a similar somewhat-awkward aura just like he did as a child.

In this moment Italy could swear he was just that little boy in the green dress and apron wishing his love farewell before the war. There was movement in his peripheral vision and Germany caught his eye. Italy couldn’t leave Germany, not like this, not here. He turned his head and caught Germany’s gaze, and the man gave him a heartbroken look and a simple nod.

 _Germany was giving him up so he could be with Holy Rome_. Time was moving so slow yet so fast, he didn’t have time to appreciate the true love the German was showing by putting his happiness ahead of his own.

And so Holy Rome gathered Italy up in his arms, holding him loosely, ignoring the eyes burning through them as their reunited scene unfolded.

“Holy Rome,” Italy breathed into his shoulder.

“Italy.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Italy… but before you join me, I need just one thing.”

Italy peered into his eyes, ready to do anything it took to be with his lost love. He was even ready to give up being North Italy and become part of the Holy Roman Empire, something he was so terrified of as a child. He didn’t want to lose Holy Rome if he got too strong, but he already lost him and felt he had nothing to lose now.

“What is it, Holy Rome?”

“I’m… going to need… about tree-fiddy.”

There was a stunned silence in the room, broken only by America asking, “What’s tree-fiddy?”

Britain quickly replied, “About three dollars and fifty cents in your currency.”

It was that moment that Italy realized Holy Rome was actually five-hundred feet tall and from the Paleolithic era. “God damn it, Loch Ness Monster!” He pushed the man away, screaming, “I ain’t got no tree-fiddy!”

The Holy Romeness Monster looked disappointed and slithered out of the room quickly, leaving a trail of sea water in his wake. Italy stomped back to his seat, sitting angrily down. “Damn Loch Ness Monster got me again!”

The meeting was then cancelled and everyone parted ways. As Italy and Germany walked out together, the smaller nation noticed the distance Germany was keeping, along with the uncharacteristic sad look in his eyes.

Italy reached his hand out, capturing Germany’s own, smiling up at him when he received a shocked expression. “Holy Rome is gone,” he whispered. “You’re what I want.”

Germany smiled and they walked together toward their home in a peaceful silence.

“And Germany… I’d give you all the tree-fiddy in the world.”


End file.
